In the aftermath of the tragedy that befell Boston, I have spent the last 24 hours reflecting on the things I had done there in the past.
I would regularly visit friends in JP during my childhood, my 21st birthday was a drunken weekend there, I met a bunch of Betties, I made regular trips to the aquarium, I met a bunch of nerds through Chris Hardwick, so many trips to Quincy, my friend started her business there… Laughs, love, memories of blisters from really inappropriate shoes, getting hit on by homeless dudes, bar hopping on St Paddys, waking up and wondering where my pants were, ridiculous trips to Framingham to get $2.99 wine at Trader Joes, conventions, mischief.
Boston was always my “go to” destination over NYC. It wasn’t because I hated New York. It was because it felt like home.
A part of me considered moving there before finding and falling in love with Portland.
Last night I was so angry at the Internet that I turned off everything and went to bed very early. Some people took to devaluing the situation, saying that this stuff happens all the time. It shouldn’t be a priority over everything else.
Instead of telling them to go fuck themselves, I went to every Facebook page of a friend that either lives in Boston or works close and made sure they were all right.
I am one of the lucky ones. So many people in Boston are hurt and scared right now. Telling them that their feelings don’t matter is more horrific than letting them take a breath to grieve.
Human tragedy isn’t a contest. Oftentimes, things are prioritized. For as much time is needed, they should be able to reflect on the events that transpired. It doesn’t mean that they have forgotten the rest of the world. It means that they are watching their sons and daughters and husbands and wives have to deal with the fact that they have lost their limbs.
I am not afraid of Boston, or ever going back home. Mainly because what I saw when seeing some of the people running was many of them running to the site to help. Runners continuing to the hospital to give blood. Off duty Emergency response personnel rushing to do what was necessary to ensure that the death count didn’t rise. Military finishing a race in full gear and then banding together to find every person that needed help.
I flashed back to 2001 yesterday, when I couldn’t get ahold of my friends in NYC. I spent ten hours in and out of panic attacks. To tell me to “wake up” and that it happens all the time is fucked up. There is no limit to the expanse of empathy.
That being said? I love you Boston. I’ll be around to hug you soon enough.